The Nightmare Eye
by Magnificent the Destroyer Lord
Summary: This story may become rated M later, but for now it's about T
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Blizzard Entertainment, Diablo, or any of the characters from the original game series I may use in this. I'm most definitely _NOT_ going to profit from this, unless sentimental value at a project (hopefully) well done is now part of the definition of profit.

Author's Note: Anyone who has read my first submission will notice that the first chapter of this is the prologue that I currently have posted. That's because I realized I accidentally put a prologue in that should be the first chapter. Also, some of the descriptions and places may be different from the game; I took a great deal of liberty with the descriptions because I never paid any attention to the minor details of the game's background more than to go "Ooh!" when I first played it.

The Nightmare Eye

Prologue

Daelus Minneth sighed heavily. He stood within the halls of the Worldstone Keep, the legendary halls that housed the Worldstone.

Daelus had had a horrific struggle down the last two floors; a seemingly never-ending stream of demons; it had taken all of his cunning to survive against the massive hordes of monsters, all bent on preventing Minneth's reaching their master.

As he stood there, he reflected on the hordes now dead, sent back to the Hells that spawned them. The worst of the fight had been the suicidal minions, giant beasts created from demonic flesh and knobby bone, running with demonic fervor into the midst of battle, only to explode on contact.

It had taken three different encounters with these strange kamikaze fighters before Minneth could figure out a desperate strategy; allowing the mage that followed him along to interced with these explosive charges as it seemed that the damage would not affect him. Perhaps it had something to do with the hireling's magical energies that protected him.

Now he stood on the edge of a grand staircase, flanked with gigantic doors; each guided with ornate designs. What took away from the captivating scenery of these doors were the insignias and incantations scribbled onto the door in some form of blood, possibly a warding from intruders.

With a deep sigh, Daelus Minneth readied himself and descended down the stairs, taking them two at a time. As he did, he prayed to the Light to aid him in battle against whatever awaited him…

Three hours and a lifetime later, Minneth stood victorious over the dying corpse of the Lord of Destruction, his armor dented, his skin bloodied, but still mostly alive and not possessed.

With his last breath, Baal called out a curse in his demonic language, as he had fallen facing the base of the Worldstone, now pink with his corruption.

"You may have defeated me in combat, mortal … but I will still wi-in in the end…."

Upon hearing this, Daelus rushed over and grabbed the remains of the demon.

"What do you mean, demon? How can you still win? Answer me, dammit!"

But the demon was dead, its tortured and blackened excuse for a soul returning to the depths of the Abyss. As this orcurred, the Worldstone began to throb and pulsate, as if it had been transformed into a gigantic heart by Baal, and was now convulsing like the dead within its sacred chamber.

"Her, you must escape! The World stone is too corrupted to remain as it is. I will open a portal for you to leave through, but leave you must!"

"Lord Tyreal! I am honored…."

"No time, Hero. You must leave, and now!"

As the Archangel spoke, a small spike of energy leapt from the runeblade the gigantic angel carried. The energy from this spike coalesced into a bluish portal, which would lead back to the citadel of Hraggath, from which Daelus had entered into this stage of the Prime Evils' war.

"Very well. But what's this? I see something strange on his corpse…."

Daelus reached over and knocked the corpse away, revealing a large pile of weaponry and other items, amongst which was a small orb, carved of obsidian and fashioned into an eye. The detail was so perfect that Minneth feared what it might contain within. He clutched it to himself and hurled himself into the portal. When he emerged in Hraggath, he could just barely see the peak of Mt. Areat in the distance, a strange glow encircling the topmost parts of the peak. Then a giant flash and an enermous explosion rocked the mountain, sending parts of the mountain falling down. Daelus prayed that Tyreal was all right, but deep within his heart, he had the feeling he would never see the great angel again in this or any other plane of existence. He looked at the eye he had pulled from the chamber, and looked at it more closely. He could feel a dark presence emanating from the small item, a dark and demonic presence. He wished he could give it to one of the angels, but he didn't know how to find any of them, or if they would even heed his prayers now that Tyreal had gone against their will to aid the mortal plane.

And with that, Daelus had resolved one thing; he would give it to Deckard Cain, the Horadrim sage who had traveled with him from his home in the Far West, somewhere in the region of Entsteig. Minneth walked over to the little hut Cain lived in near the outer ramparts, so that he could inform the sage of his plans.

After a long and heated discussion, Cain finally relented and took the artifact from Minneth, saying that he knew someone who was more worthy and more able to watch over the relic while Minneth was gone. They grabbed the few possesions they owned; most of Cain's things consisted mainly of books, scrools, and tomes. Once their chests of possessions were loaded up, they carried them to the waypoint in town and warped to the encampment in the Far West.

"Akara, come quickly! There are visitors here!" The Rogue lieutenant shouted breathlessly into the high Pristess' chambes within the newly cleaned Monastery.

"What, child? Take a moment and rest. Now, what visitors are you taking about?"

"Two visitors, Priestess. One is that old man from Tristram, Cain, isn't it? The other is some kind of warrior with a big shield. He keeps saying he must see you as soon as possible."

"Daelus and Cain! They must have succeeded in defeating the Three!"

With that, the Rogue was driven beyond human endurance; she began to whoop with excitement, running through the monastery, shouting something incomprehensible but obviously celebratory..

The two travelers came into the middle of the outer cloysters, tired and bone-weary. Although the waypoints took them instantaneously anywhere, the travel was still quite felt by the travelers. When sighting the familiar purple robes of Akara, Cain and Minneth headed straight for her, disregarding the eager crowds of Rouges awaiting details of the trials and tribulations of the Hero who defeated the Three in combat.

"Akara, please, we need to talk in privacy…."

"I understand, let's hurry before these young ones begin to get on my nerves."

"All the joys of having an order beginning to return, eh?"

"Don't joke like that, Minneth; just because you stopped the Prime Evils doesn't mean I can't discipline a youth who's in need of it…."

"Merely joking."

When they arrived in Akara's personal chambers, they revealed the "prize" that Minneth had uncovered in the Worldstone Chamber two days ago. After hearing the tale, Akara agreed that someone must watch over the eye-like relic.

"Perhaps my sister, Agrela, can watch over the relic. When the Hero came back, I had received word from her that she was leaving due to a magical disturbance she had felt in the area. I thought she was being overly paranoid; she always was more easily frightened by the possibility of demonic magics than I was… if only I'd listened… ah well, at least she can help us now."

"Yes, she'd be the perfect choice. Would you mind sending us with letters?"

"No, I'll write them straight away."

That night, Minneth and Cain said their goodbyes; Minneth was feeling keenly homesick, and he wanted to try to round up any few brothers of the True Zacherum left after Mephisto's demise.

"Good luck, my friend. I'm sure that after the destruction of both Mephisto and their corrupt council, the rest of your order should be freed."

"I hoe so; I would like to see my homeland return to its former glory, or at least a part of it. Ah well, guard the relic well, and by the way, here is a special something I've been meaning to give to you. It's a scroll with a memorization of the waypoint system. If anything ever happens, you can use it to get me."

"Thank you. Hopefully we'll meet again under better circumstances."

And with that, the two headed their separate ways, looking forward to a hopeful future. If they only knew what tragedies the eye would bring….

So, how's the fic so far? It's my redo of a first try at this, so please keep reviewing! Also, I noticed something Mad-Man mentioned; I've never been able to make out the buildings that well in Tristram; I always focued on both the enemies and the loot after freeing Cain: the Church and Catacombs may very well have sunk into Hell.


	2. Loss of the Relic and Gaining of Knowled

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Blizzard Entertainment, Diablo, or any of the characters from the original game series I may use in this. I'm most definitely _NOT_ going to profit from this, unless sentimental value at a project (hopefully) well done is now part of the definition of profit.

The Nightmare Eye

Merec woke to a strange noise in the town; he thought he'd heard a noise on his shutters like a dog scratching to get in from the cold.

_"Odd,"_ thought Merec, _"I don't own a dog, but it might be one of the local whelps… If they're keeping me up, I'm going to have dog for dinner…"_

With a grumble for the trouble so early in the morning, he arose and dressed. Tristram was home to many a family, several of which had dogs that they let wander about freely. Yet when he opened the door, he saw something that made him pale in terror – several demons running about, chasing down any small living thing and butchering them.

"Oh, Gods," Merec groaned, "please not again…!" He ran inside and barred the doors, shutters, windows, any small crevice he could find, then grabbed a buckler and a falchion he had put away for just such an occasion.

Newly armed, Merec ran outside, screaming a cry of defiance as he rushed into a pack of the foul brutes. "Chew on this, bastards!" He screamed as he cleaved a demon in two, grabbing a child it was attacking in the process.

"Lad, are there any others out and about? No? Good. Run and get the blacksmith, the healer, anybody. Tell them the church's been breached again. Run, all our lives depend on it!"

The scared boy ran as if the fallen had arose and started chasing him again.

_"Those bastards won't get away with this…" _Merec began to growl in inarticulate rage at the gall of the little demons; he then howled at the nearby fallen and began to rush at them, hacking and slashing through any of them he found, repaying them for their foul feast where ever he found them.

Soon the blacksmith wandered up to Merec, calling out his name;

"Merec, young lad! Over here! That's enough, they're running off now; let them go."

"How many did we lose to those foul little bastards?"

"About five children, seventeen dogs, fifteen chickens, and any number of livestock. At least they didn't steal anything important, just some bauble from the witch across the island."

Merec grunted; he felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach – five young children who would never get to lead their own lives – never get out of this hell hole. At that moment, he could hear the elder, Deckard Cain running up to the blacksmith, obviously distressed over something grievous;

"Kierev, I heard that Agrela lost something from her hut; what was it?"

"Just some stone, it looked kind of a disembodied eye; it was made out of obsidian and had sapphires and opals all over it. It was her only jewelry, why?"

Cain was unable to respond; at the description, he began to swear sulfurously under his breath, almost at a histerical rate.

"Calm down, old man, what's wrong?"

"That stone was a powerful artifact given to her for safe-keeping when the Hero from the far east destroyed Baal, the Lord of Destruction and the last of the Prime Evils. It has great powers, most of which are a mystery, even to my lore."

"Well, whatever it was, it's gone for good. We're short on seasoned warriors, and that's exactly what it takes to traverse the catacombs of that decrepit old church."

"Then there's only one hope – we have to send news to the Rogues and hope that they can help us. For all I know, that talisman could have to power to resurrect the Prime Evils."

Merec decided he would be the one to deliver the message when it was written, even though the town council was meeting to debate just such a thing. He returned to his house, cleaned his weapon, grabbed the small amount of gold he had to his name, locked the door, and left his home for what he felt was going to be forever.

So, what do you think? Did I make the scene end too soon? Please send me your thoughts about the story. Thanks!


	3. He Who Slew Baal

Disclaimer: I don't own Blizzard Entertainment, Diablo 2: Lord of Destruction, the characters from the series; although I do own A COPY OF THE GAME – the characters I create are mine though.

Chapter 2 – Wanted: He Who Slew Baal

Three weeks later, the caravan pulled into a small encampment along the trail from Tristram to Lut-Gholain. Merec was beginning to think that he should have stayed back at home; the rain and hard riding was not doing wonders for his health. As he sneezed he thought to himself: _"Better than chasing Fallen around the wilderness looking for the old bat's rock."_

Merec noticed the messenger he'd followed speaking to a woman in purple robes over by a large tent in the south-eastern corner of the camp. _"That must be the weirdo bitch Agrela was yapping on about. I think the bat told Suuto about her." _As if his thoughts were a summoner's chant, the woman in purple came over to him.

"Suuto told me you were the one who saved most of the town from the demons' attack."

"Well, yeah, but I just whacked a few fallen so they wouldn't kill the kid they were tormenting. BY the way, why are you guys out here? I thought your monastery was safe after that Paladin came through here, Whatsisname."

"Slayer Daelus Minnith, you mean? Yes, in fact, that's precisely why this hole of a camp is here. We thought it might be a good rest stop for big caravans heading eastward, since it's such a long trip."

"Ahhh. Well, I'd better make sure Suuto told you the right story; sometimes he likes to add in junk. Half the town thinks he's half bard."

"Yes, he told me that the fallen stole a powerful artifact that Daelus had left behind after returning to Kurast in the East. Well, that is grave, but hopefully we can find him, now that the Waypoints are up and running…."

"Well, how do we find him, huh? I want to find those little bastards and make them about a foot shorter."

"Calm down, Merec, is it? I understand that you hate most demons, they are foul enough to begin with, what with the ceremonies they perform, not to mention what they do for 'fun'."

"What are you trying to say! Spit it out, all ready!"

"I know that your uncle was the Hero driven into insanity by Diablo in the first place fifteen years ago. (I'm assuming that Diablo 2 took place five years after the original Diablo) That is not an easy thing to cope with, and I hear from my occasional messages to Cain that you have dealt well with it; although I do wish your temperament was slightly less aggressive."

"Blame that on my lineage."

Merec was tired of mincing about, so he thought it was time for some even blunter questions;

"So, how we gonna go get this Day-su character, anyway? Just hop the nearest Waypoint to Kurast or something?"

"No, unfortunately for all involved; the Waypoints refuse to work between kingdoms. Perhaps it has something to do with the landscapes around the different areas. However, once you ride onward to Lut-Gholein, you can sail to Kurast in comfort."

"I don't care about the hardships, I just wanna get that rock back so I can get home. Cain told me that if any demons get their slimy claws on it, we'll have another Baal wandering loose around Sanctuary, doing whatever pleases him, including blowing the hell out of any town he feels like."

"Very well; I'll arrange something with Warriv. I don't know what it is, but he seems to like us; he keeps coming back again and again. He says he's gotten used to the cold around here, but I think it's something else."

"Fine, talk to whomever you need to so I can get out of here and on my way."

"Very well, by the way, my name is Khora – I'm Akara's daughter."

"Great, another weirdo who's obsessed with magic. Say hello to the old bat for me, will you?"

"I will, and by the way, this is for calling my mother an 'old bat'."

She slapped him hard on the face.

"Sorry, I just can't stand casters; something about them creeps my flesh."

"You're forgiven, for the moment. I'll go talk to Warriv now."

(Please forgive me if I take a few liberties with Warriv's appearance; I can't exactly make him out very well in the game.)

And with that, Khora left, stalking over to an average-sized man, with tanned skin, wearing a leather jerkin, cloth pants, and light boots. She spoke to him quickly, and from Warriv's expression, Merec could tell he'd struck a nerve with the crack about her mom. _"Ahhh, women casters."_

After Khora walked back to her tent, Warriv strolled over and called out a greeting to Merec.

"Greetings, stranger. I don't see many people from further West in here; mostly traders coming in to add to Gheed's greivances against me. He's been in apperplexy ever since I led a few interested spice merchants back from Lut-Gholein. But enough about my personal standings with annoying thieves, Khora tells me I should take you East with me. We'll leave just as soon as the caravan's prepared."

"Thanks. I'm starting to get restless around here. By the way, did you see the man who came in with me – quilted shirt, multi-colored leggings, light boots?"

"Yes, he left for Tristram, with a message for Cain and the townsfolk."

"Good – if someone doesn't look after him, Suuto can get into a _lot_ trouble."

"Well, don't worry, Khora already knew about that too. She sent back a few of her Rogue scouts as an escort."

Merec let out an explosive breath. _"I just hope those gals can keep him on a straight path back. He likes to stop and smell each rosebush along the way."_

That night, the caravan left following the monastery road eastward, after coming out of the Waypoints at the Black Marsh. Merec knew that even with the demons and corrupted Rogues gone, the wilderness was no place for rest and relaxation. He kept on his guard until they reached the monastery, stopping only just overnight. That was one battle Merec had had to fight quick and hard to win; Warriv would have stayed a fortnight with his friends if he'd had his way.

So, another chapter done! I hope the description of Warriv wasn't too off the mark; I can never make out just exactly what he looked like well enough in the game. I actually ignored him most of the time. To all action/adventure fans who might be reading this, I apologize; it takes a while to set up the plot. Hopefully these "maneuvering" chapters will be few and far between. Please review and let me know what you think.

P.s. Merec may seem like a semi-Barbarian; it's due to the fact that yes, I wanted to throw in a relation to the warrior; I thought he must have relatives since there are a million allusions in Diablo and Diablo 2 to Tristram being a big town before "Big D." destroyed it.


End file.
